Ceremonies and Celebrations: Deveran Conflict Series Book IV

By Robert Luis Rabello

In the aftermath of the Kamerese Civil War, Cassie Velez and her affianced boyfriend, Jared Hohner, live as uneasy guests of King Alejo at his palace in Kameron City. Food shortages and a vitriolic press stir the passions of the Kamerese people, resulting in rioting and violence. Can Jared persuade the king to enact positive change and prevent another crisis? Will Cassie successfully navigate the dangerous minefield of social interaction with tempestuous Queen Ariadna and her guest, Hermenia Vega, the heiress of the feared rebel warlord, El Caudillo?
Meanwhile, Kira and Algernon Ravenwood begin their long-anticipated public service among young women in the Tamarian capital of Marvic. Facing much uncertainty, outright hostility from the girls they’re trying to help and the men who exploit them, the twin siblings must work in close harmony in order to succeed. But threats from an assassin’s guild and relational discord threaten to unravel Kira’s aspirations, while Algernon struggles to affirm the authenticity of his ministerial calling.
Garrick, their older brother, commands Third Platoon Alpha Company in garrison. Haunted by nightmares and dealing with post-traumatic stress, Garrick must maintain high standards of performance among the weary and bickering members of his platoon. With a new commander raising expectations, can the young lieutenant cope with peacetime responsibilities? Or will fatigue and the forbidden affection of Brenna Velez, his soon-to-be-bride, derail Garrick’s career?
Brenna’s faith, crippled by guilt, is put to a supreme test as evil spirits torment her consciousness. Is she involved in a genuine spiritual battle, or is she going crazy? Will her struggle ruin her relationship with Garrick and wreck their wedding plans? Or, can Brenna learn to accept grace, forgive the people who mistreated her and marry the man she loves?
All is revealed in Ceremonies and Celebrations, Book Four of the Deveran Conflict Series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Luis Rabello
• Release date: Sep 29, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465754783

Robert Luis Rabello

When I was a young boy, my favorite place in the entire world provided shelter from the blistering summer sun beneath twisted, tangled California Live Oaks. The arroyo lay carpeted in a crisp bed of fallen leaves, beneath which water always flowed. Toward dusk, living creatures moved from their dens and resting places--small amphibians, birds and mammals--coming out to hunt, or be hunted.The contrast between the busy streets of my home town and this quiet place, which lay within a thirty minute bike ride of my house, drew me with increasing frequency as I grew older. My mother never complained when I brought new 'pets' home. I kept tadpoles in a jar, toads and snakes in a terrarium, then dutifully returned them to the 'wild' after observing their behavior for a little while.The day I saw an army of bulldozers arrive, my heart sank. Although somebody once told me that the subspecies of California Live Oak native to the San Rafael hills where I grew up lived in no other place on earth, the giant machines knocked them to the ground without mercy. In their place, a massive, fetid, noisome mountain of garbage rose toward the sky. I vowed to leave that place and live somewhere far away, where my new 'favorite place' could remain pristine. I swore that I would forsake California for Canada.Although that memory has faded, and its impact muted by a myriad of different experiences, somehow it retains an influence over my attitude toward people and the world I observe. It could be a better place, if something within us would change--That restless desire to instigate a revolution lies at the core of what motivates me to write. I put words on paper in the naive belief that somehow you will be different after my work has been read. This is not arrogance,merely hope.

Book preview

Ceremonies and Celebrations

a novel of

forgiveness and reconciliation

by

Robert Luis Rabello

Table of Contents

Awake

Meddle, Mettle, Medal

Rumors

Control

Change

Decisions

Firstfruits

Unexpected Outcomes

Warnings

Uplifted Hands

Defeat

Sacred Words

Dreams and Slumber

Awake

Cassie awoke to the sound of gunfire. Her eyes opened but she did not move, listening – with a pounding heart – to the patter of rain on the window. Slowly and carefully, she reached for a deadly-sharp boot knife hidden beneath her pillow. With her fingers wrapped around its handle she turned her head toward the door and waited breathlessly. Short bursts from an automatic rifle confirmed that she’d not imagined the threat. Judging its direction, the Lithian maiden deduced that a gunfight had begun inside the palace complex, several floors beneath her room.

Her suite, near the top of a circular tower on the western wing of King Alejo’s palace, overlooked an inlet where storm-driven waves from the Bay of Maridom crashed upon jagged rocks more than three hundred feet below. This made her quarters difficult to approach from the outside. Potential attackers had to fight their way through several defensive features inside the palace itself, and the Royal Guard soldiers who manned the gates and patrolled the perimeter had a reputation for loyalty and professionalism. When she and Jared first arrived in Kameron City weeks earlier, Woodwind – who served as commander of her personal bodyguard – had approved these secure accommodations.

Now, however, she felt alone and trapped. The only exit she knew of lay down the stairs to the east, the direction from which she’d heard the gunfire. Cassie arose, her slender body shivering in the damp chill as her feet stood on the cold tile. She dressed quickly into dark pants and a black blouse, stepping into slippers rather than taking the time to put on her boots. Over a tight-fitting sweater the worried maiden slipped thin, bullet-resistant body armor that she sincerely hoped would serve as an unnecessary precaution.

Cassie tied her hair back, sheathed her boot knife and donned a harness that carried a sharp, Lithian longsword, her favored weapon. After fumbling through a desk drawer for an ammunition magazine, the young woman expertly loaded a thirty caliber pistol and strapped it to her right thigh.

No sooner had she finished tightening its strap than the sound of booted footfalls echoed from the circular hallway and staircase beyond her door. Cassie flung the window curtains wide, flooding the room with enough UV light for her Lithian vision to detect fine details and minute defects in the stone wainscoting of her room. She watched tiny cracks tremble as the footfalls approached.

Cassie quietly drew her sword, pressed her back against the wall near the door and prayed. She hadn’t come to Kameron City to fight; she’d come seeking reconciliation with her father’s enemies. A singular male voice, speaking sternly in Kamerese, paused at two other doorways. She heard the man open these empty rooms, then stride over to hers.

That meant he didn’t know where she was staying, and that had to be good. But did it also mean that he was looking to help, or harm her? Gunfire rattled her window as the footsteps neared and a gloved hand pounded on her door.

Fear rose in Cassie’s heart. She remained silent, but readied her blade and steadied her breathing. Though, like her older sister, Cassie had spent years training with a sword, unlike Brenna, she’d never taken life and the thought of doing so made her feel sick. Cassie had no desire to harm. She’d never hurt anyone in her life, but she worried that she’d now be forced to defend herself.

When the man opened the door and shone a light inside, she slashed downward, her sharp Lithian sword cutting the flashlight he’d carried in half, rendering it useless. Instinctively she twisted to the right and pushed her weapon against yielding flesh.

As metal clattered and glass shattered noisily on the floor, Carlos – the Royal Guard soldier who’d been sent to find Cassie – felt the keen, crystalline edge of a Lithian sword press firmly against his neck. The slightest movement cut skin. In terror he held very still, hearing the young woman he’d been sent to evacuate whisper words he didn’t understand.

The lone soldier wore a Royal Guard uniform. It seemed unlikely that a singular assassin would blunder down the hallway knocking on every door in search of his victim. Moreover, though he had no idea she had any visual acuity in what appeared as complete darkness to him, Cassie soon noted that he’d wet himself.

She stepped away, suppressing a laugh. Having heard Brenna tell stories of desperate battles and unrelenting peril, observing the soft glow of a urine stain slowly spreading on the warrior’s pants seemed a comical response to the dread fear she’d experienced only moments earlier. Not knowing what else to do, Cassie reached for the electric lamp on the bedside table and turned the switch.

No! No! Carlos exclaimed, trying to explain that her life was in serious danger – using words that Cassie didn’t comprehend – and further, that he’d been sent to lead her to safety. He took hold of Cassie’s left hand as he pulled the lamp cord from its socket in the wall, but she twisted out of his grip and poked the business end of her sword back into his armor with sufficient force that its sharp tip sliced through the woven steel thread and nicked his flesh.

Cassie, irritated that he’d touched her, didn’t know what to say. Her natural reticence and inability to speak Kamerese compounded her misunderstanding of this encounter, and worse, she felt afraid as the sound of an intensifying firefight drew nearer, drowning out the endless patter of falling rain. Hearing the soldier let out a short gasp as her blade pricked his flesh, she immediately felt bad and withdrew the weapon.

Carlos didn’t linger to receive more mistreatment. He stumbled back into the dark hallway, following the stone curve of its inner wall with his right hand in order to find the spiral staircase he’d ascended minutes earlier. He called out for help, complaining that the fair damsel he’d been tasked to rescue turned out to be armed, crazy and bloodthirsty . . . .

Though she peeked into the hall and watched the soldier disappear into the stairwell, Cassie did not follow. She returned to her bed with a furrowed brow, hurriedly pulled on a pair of socks, then put on and laced up her boots. This type of dress seemed unflattering and unfeminine. She’d never have worn clothing of this kind on her own volition.

The outfit didn’t suit her, yet the specialized pants, blouse and armor offered both protection and camouflage. A mysterious, techno-magical function of its photo-sensitive reflecting threads accurately mimicked the surrounding environment, enabling her to blend into shadows. Cassie far preferred avoiding danger by concealment to combat. While the martial skills she’d learned helped her develop and maintain cardiovascular fitness, agility and strength, she’d lost loved ones in the nearly constant combat that spanned her lifetime and witnessed how warfare wounded her older sister’s body and soul.

That’s why the edicts of Lithian scripture which called for reconciliation and forgiveness resonated more powerfully in her soul than those calling Allfather’s people to defend the cause of the weak in battle. The young woman had not come to Kameron City to fight. Her mission involved diplomacy and peace.

While tying her boot laces, Cassie fretted about Jared Hohner, her longtime boyfriend. His quarters, located on the floor below hers, connected to the main palace complex by virtue of the same spiral stairway that the Royal Guard soldier had used. The stairs lead from a foyer three levels below, the only way she knew that led out of the tower. Cassie didn’t know whether she should wait in her room, or go looking for Jared.

Worry overcame her reluctance to move. With her drawn sword in hand, Cassie crept along the curved hallway, and with light steps, descended the spiral staircase. It wound around a large stone pillar, lit only by narrow, slitted windows near its top. As she descended, the staircase became so dark that she had to carefully feel her way forward to avoid missing a stair and falling.

One floor below, she found the exit and crept into a deserted and quiet hallway that looked very much like the one on her level. Cassie’s boots featured a sound-absorbing compound that enabled her to move in near silence, though her heart beat so hard she worried that anyone in close proximity might have heard its restless pounding. Disappointment arose in her soul when she found Jared’s suite unoccupied. Opening his curtain fully, she saw his belongings scattered about. Since Jared’s family did not have servants, Cassie found it uncharacteristic that he’d not taken a minute to tidy his room. The fact that his bed remained warm and unmade indicated that he’d departed in great haste.

The young woman frowned, feeling both sad and worried. Where had her beloved gone? Why had he left her behind? What if something dreadful had happened to him? She lingered to pick up his pillow, breathing in his familiar scent, then looked around the room to see if he’d left her a note, but found nothing.

Returning to the staircase with rising concern that she’d been abandoned, the Lithian maiden sheathed her sword and crept to the bottom level. She pressed her ear to the exit, and hearing men on the other side, carefully opened the door. Squinting in the bright electric light, she heard safeties flip and rifle bolts draw back.

An unfamiliar voice barked a firm command in Kamerese. As Cassie’s eyes adjusted, she saw a squad of Royal Guard warriors glaring angrily at her. They’d set up barricades of tables and other furniture at right angles, facing the hallway that connected the guest wing with the rest of the royal palace.

One of the men barked an order at her, gesturing that she ought to return from whence she’d come. Though she didn’t understand his language, the sound of booted feet approaching and the eruption of gunfire motivated her to flee back upstairs.

That’s when she heard Woodwind calling her name. He’d gone to clear the stairwell above her floor and sent the hapless Carlos to find and fetch her. Frantically, Cassie ascended as quickly as possible. I’m here! she cried. I’m looking for Jared.

Though he felt relief that she was safe, exasperation crept into Woodwind’s voice. Where have you been? he demanded. Why didn’t you evacuate?

Bewildered, Cassie climbed into the influence of Woodwind’s flashlight. Gunfire awakened me. Then a stranger came into my room . . . .

Woodwind was not the kind of man who swore, but his gruff tone indicated he wasn’t happy at the moment. Get up here!

Cassie, though she didn’t like being told what to do, obeyed. Where’s Jared? she inquired, fearfully.

Seeing the young woman whole and unhurt, Woodwind’s tone softened. He’s waiting for you and worried sick! the warrior replied. Why didn’t you come when I sent Carlos to find you?

Though she could have criticized her bodyguard for not personally attending to her safety and sending someone with whom she could not communicate, gentle-spirited Cassie wordlessly reached for Woodwind’s outstretched hand and scurried upstairs in his company. As the sound of battle echoed on the hard, stone surface of the inner tower, they ascended to the very top of the stairway. A heavy, steel door opened into a circular area that featured many slitted windows.

Every tower in the palace had a similar panic room, a place where residents and their guests could gather in the event of an attack. The fact that such a place existed inspired dread in Cassie’s soul. In what kind of nation did the sovereign require a secure, safe-haven for his family and guests?

The room contained no furniture. Several armed men, including Carlos, the Royal Guard soldier, sat along the outer wall. In its center another stair spiraled downward, within the tower’s inner wall. This secret exit led to a tunnel carved into the rock far below, opening to the outside a dozen feet above the high tide mark.

Cassie recognized her cousin Aril, three other Lithian soldiers, and Xola – an Abelscinnian warrior with close ties to her family. She heard the familiar sound of Jared’s voice sighing in relief, then opened her arms to embrace him.

Jared, barefooted and wearing night clothes beneath his robe, did not kiss his beloved in front of the others. Though they often exchanged greeting kisses in the presence of siblings and parents – on the lips, according to Lithian custom – the young couple preferred to reserve their affection for private moments. They moved to the far wall and stood together in silence.

Woodwind and Aril spoke to Xola in low tones, discussing their options. After agreeing on a plan, Woodwind approached the young couple under his care. We still don’t know what’s going on, he told them. I’ll head downstairs to speak with the Royal Guard captain. Xola, Aril and the others will stay with you. If things get out of hand, follow Carlos to the postern. There’s a path from there that leads to the sea. He’ll signal a Royal Navy cutter stationed near the inlet to evacuate you.

It’s stormy out there, Jared stated. You think a ship can approach the shore in this kind of weather?

Woodwind patted him on the shoulder. Let’s pray it doesn’t come to that, he replied. In the meantime, make yourselves as comfortable as you can. After activating his flashlight, Woodwind returned to the outer stairwell and headed below.

In the long silence that followed his departure, Cassie took the blade from her back and slid into a sitting position next to Jared. Uncertainty amplified her fear, and as her thoughts drifted in and out of prayer, she remembered the evidence of Brenna’s suffering at the hands of Kamerese rebels. They’d done terrible things to her. Deep lash marks and extensive bruising marred her elder sister’s flesh. A horrible, gasp-inspiring scar extended from her right ear, all the way down her neck to her breastbone, the result of a wicked effort to decapitate the young woman.

Brenna had also suffered the loss of her maiden tresses, a humiliation that symbolized the extent to which rebel warriors would have debased her, had they been able to express their loathing of her people to its full extent. She’d spoken to Cassie at length after escaping and finding her way back home, and now, Brenna’s bitter words resounded in Cassie’s memory.

For the first time in my life, I’ve learned to hate, Brenna had told her. I can’t forgive them. I pray, but I can’t help how I feel about those horrible people!

Cassie recalled that when her sister returned to the place of her torment, ostensibly to guide a Tamarian rescue mission of the other prisoners, Brenna exacted revenge on the men responsible for brutally beating and torturing her, shaving her scalp, starving her and depriving her of water. She personally killed 18 of their soldiers and hacked off the head of the most feared rebel leader in Kameron, repaying his cruelty with her own.

I’m no better than they were, Brenna wistfully admitted to Cassie afterward. In my weakness, I let anger guide my actions. When I was in a position to prevail, I showed no mercy . . . .

Brenna’s spirit had been broken by her ordeal. Now Cassie, facing a nameless menace, worried that if captured, she’d suffer a similar fate. With these thoughts on her mind, Cassie prayed – silently, yet earnestly – that Allfather would permit his goodness to shine throughout her mission in Kameron City. She prayed protection for her Amair, Umma and siblings on the Velez estate, and with all the fervency she could muster in silence, asked God to forgive and heal her beloved sister, Brenna.

***

Far to the northeast, in the deep cold of a winter’s night, Cassie’s mother, Lady Alexina Velez, stirred upon hearing the subdued sound of her son’s voice. The five-month-old infant had not yet learned how to speak, but babbled happily as he watched fluorescent patterns of faint ultraviolet light glimmer on the ceiling.

Alexina lifted her feather quilt and slipped out of bed with gentle care, her light, athletic movement barely disturbing the slumber of her husband, Lord Lynden. The Lithian woman paused to gaze at his handsome face – resting peacefully upon a pair of pillows – resisting the temptation to kiss his lips lest he awaken. What dreams flowed through his unconscious mind while she arose, alert and purposeful?

She adored her sleeping husband and admired his selfless devotion to practical morality. She’d never known a more principled man, and given the piety of her own Amair and other devout men in her family, her thoughts represented high praise. Lynden Velez had not consulted with other Kamerese leaders before addressing the longstanding grievances among the tenant farmers on his land. He’d done the right thing unilaterally, long before the dissent in Southern Kameron erupted into bare-fanged insurrection.

Turning her attention to her son, Alexina smiled while she stroked his cheek and gazed into his bright eyes. My beautiful boy, she cooed. Are you hungry?

The ordinary act of nursing – which Alexina considered essential to her motherly role – served a practical purpose. Her body mysteriously adjusted to her son’s ever-changing needs, providing him with the perfect balance of nutrition and defense against infection, and these quiet moments with her baby also gave the woman time to think.

Alexina pondered how nurturing this tiny gift she’d been given filled her soul with peace and purpose. She loved being a mother. While she devoted much time and effort to community service, the impact of her formal work paled when compared to her maternal role. Raising four daughters to maturity had already defined much of her experience. Now, having been blessed at last with a son, she gained renewed appreciation for motherhood and, as she tied her long, black and grey hair back into a ponytail, Alexina whispered a prayer of gratitude.

After cleaning and swaddling her baby in a fresh diaper, she picked him up, sat in a gliding chair near the window and cradled the infant boy. Light flakes of wet snow drifted from the dark sky, swirling beyond the glass panes, clinging to the pine trees that grew on the hillside below the villa. Alexina settled her son to her right breast and relaxed as she began nursing. Her son’s gentle suction encouraged letdown, and he was soon lapping her milk contentedly. Lady Alexina enjoyed the pleasant sensation of his suckling and the sense of closeness wrought by the simple act of feeding her child. She wrapped Eren in a blanket to keep him warm, maintaining eye contact and murmuring to him, rhythmically pushing the glider back with her right foot and letting it rebound, while her mind wandered away.

Brenna and Cassie – her eldest daughters – had departed many weeks earlier for the capital cities of Tamaria and Kameron, respectively; Brenna by her own volition, but Cassie, as a hostage. Though Brenna’s spirit had suffered grievously during Kameron’s civil conflict over the past summer, Alexina hoped that no harm would befall her in Tamaria’s lofty, fortified seat of government. Lady Velez mistakenly believed that the lingering trouble in Kameron could not reach her eldest daughter there.

The same could not be said for Cassie. Alexina prayed for her daughters’ safety. Vague danger teased from the recesses of her mind. She didn’t want to cultivate fear, but her maternal instinct warned of many threats. Some of these were ill-defined, but some arose from the reality of living in a foreign land where Lithians and their moral framework were neither widely understood, nor generally accepted. Cassie’s mission to the palace in Kameron City arose from this problem.

Of the many events transpiring since the Velez family bought an estate and fled to Kameron more than two years earlier, the most significant centered on land reform. Discontent over property rights and the burgeoning rage of a sorely oppressed peasantry led to rebellion, massacres and ethnic cleansing that spread into the sparsely populated frontier where Lord Lynden had settled with his family. An armistice that forestalled further bloodshed had been honored by all sides thus far, even though the core issues that instigated the fighting remained unresolved. No one knew how long the cease-fire would hold, and the tenuous suspension of conflict felt more like a cold war than real peace.

Soon after the Velez family bought their vast acreage, Lynden met with local residents to find out how he could best serve them. Though they didn’t initially believe he’d behave any differently than the many property managers who’d preceded him, the Lithian warlord addressed their longstanding grievances by subdividing his free hold and selling most of it, without interest, to the people under his rule. To their amazement, he’d revitalized education, restored eroded land, set up a functioning economy and used his personal army to establish order in a region intimately acquainted with ignorance, hunger, poverty, institutional thievery and lawlessness.

But his bold plan to rule with integrity drew the attention and ire of other warlords, whose traditions had long preserved the exclusive power of elite families. By turning peasants into land owners, Lynden Velez unwittingly granted them rights to representation in the Kamerese House of Lords, an idea that had never been contemplated in Kameron.

Among conservative factions, the possibility that such redistribution might spread by force terrified other wealthy families. Additionally, the new land owners would then be exempt from paying rents that comprised a major revenue stream for traditional estates. This policy set a dangerous precedent that could disrupt the carefully guarded social structure of a nation well known for its historic resistance to change, and worse, threatened the lavish lifestyles of powerful nobles who viewed these reforms as a threat to their way of life.

Financing for the economic revitalization of the Velez estate came from the sale of subdivided property, and the revenue derived from the industrial output of small forges – powered by concentrated light from the Daystar – constructed on the xeric slopes overlooking the Virgin River. These factories produced highly profitable specialty fabrics and ceramo-ferric tools. Tamarian investment in the construction of these forges deeply worried wealthy, land-owning Kamerese.

King Alejo launched an investigation at the behest of concerned elites, deferring a decision on the matter until he’d heard directly from Lynden Velez. However, due to the ongoing menace of the civil conflict, Alexina’s husband could not travel to Kameron City to defend against charges that his policies incited rebellion. In his place, their second eldest daughter, Acacia – whom they called Cassie – had gone with her fiancé to stand before the king.

Letters from Cassie outlined intrigues and diverse political factions within the king’s court. In carefully coded language, the young woman hinted at Queen Ariadna’s impulsivity and the machinations of wicked parliamentarians, most of whom sought her favor in an effort to overthrow their sovereign, a man whom they considered weak.

Yet Cassie described King Alejo as pious and scholarly. She wrote that he sustained a wide variety of intellectual pursuits and seemed genuinely concerned for the welfare of his people. Cassie’s fiancé and companion, a bright lawyer named Jared Hohner, expressed pleasant surprise that the king, when presented with petitions from Kamerese peasants, ruled wisely, in harmony with legal precedent. Further, the king consistently managed to outwit power-hungry politicians who jostled for influence in parliament.

The king’s penchant for decisive action irritated traditionalist factions within the House of Lords. Two years earlier, during the Azgar invasion of Illithia, his executive order to permit foreign land ownership as a means of dealing with refugees from that war created many enemies among Kameron’s elite class. The Velez family had benefitted from that edict and would have become homeless were it not for the king’s charitable ruling. However, several influential lords campaigned for action to remove all non-Kamerese from the nation, claiming that the land reform enacted on the Velez estate was tantamount to treason, and proved that King Alejo had sold out to foreigners.

Alexina felt her son relax and detach. She placed a rag on her shoulder, held the boy close and firmly rubbed his back to clear the air he’d swallowed. After wiping his mouth and kissing his forehead, she cradled her son again and began nursing him on the left side.

Lynden reached for his wife, and finding her place empty, awakened and turned toward the window. The Lithian warlord watched his woman quietly, his worried mind calmed by the dimly-lit maternal scene he witnessed. Lynden arose, slipped into his robe and drew near. He turned Alexina’s lovely face toward his own and kissed her lips, then leaned his brow against hers and ran his fingers through the thin hair growing on their son’s head.

He’s our strong boy, Lynden noted, observing the vigor of Eren’s suckling.

He’s like you, Alexina replied, lifting her bright eyes. "And I want him to be a good man when he grows up, just like his Amair."

Lynden smiled, appreciating her praise. Can I get you something to eat? he asked.

That would be nice, she replied. And perhaps, something hot to drink? It’s a bit cold in here tonight.

The Lithian warlord draped a blanket around his wife’s bare shoulders, kissed her again, then scurried down the dark stairs to their kitchen. In the icebox he found a covered bowl that contained sliced mangoes. Larissa, Alexina’s servant, had prepared the snack knowing from long experience that Alexina appreciated something to nibble on while she nursed. Lynden prepared a cup of spicy tea for his wife before returning upstairs. He pulled a chair alongside the glider, set her tea down on the windowsill, and used a fork to offer Alexina bits of fruit as she gently glided back and forth.

Have you slept well? she inquired.

Lynden shook his head. "How can I? The fighting has stopped, but the conflict remains unresolved. Mayor Meta told me that munitions factories all over Kameron are hiring workers and extending production shifts through the night.

There’s a waiting list for small arms ammunition orders. Warlords have paid big bonuses to the transport companies while they replenish their ordnance, creating long delays in delivering ordinary commerce. Mayor Meta’s brother in Luanca owns a shipping company, and he’s making a lot of money right now.

That’s hardly a sustainable way to run an economy, Alexina remarked. At some point, the need to move food and manufactured goods should break the bottleneck. Given that the nations in the north rely on Kamerese grain and fresh produce, I’m sure there will be political pressure on the nation’s leadership to untangle commercial transport.

Lynden grunted in approval, carefully placing a slice of mango on his wife’s tongue. High demand means higher prices and healthier profits. I can’t help but wonder if there’s some collusion between the factory owners and transport companies right now.

Making money on people’s misery is a hallmark of the wealthy class in this country, Alexina replied. She smiled at her husband, reaching to caress his face with her left hand. "But I married a man who honors Allfather in every way. I married a man who puts principle before profit. I married a man who inspires my devotion and makes me happy."

Though he appreciated her loving words, worry about the evil scheming of the influential few who opposed reform smothered his soul. He’d spent hours praying about this, but had not yet found peace. "Kameron is ruled by men who are more concerned about preserving their privilege than doing what is right. Because their self-serving economic and social agenda stands in opposition to Allfather’s precepts, it’s only natural for them to take action against us, and only a matter of time before they do so."

Alexina pondered that statement for a moment, her shared concern finding expression in a knitted brow. "Allfather’s hand stays the wrath of our enemies, she stated. He will not permit them to overturn what you’ve done here."

Lynden smiled. You’re a woman of great faith! he remarked. I am blessed that you grace my life.

As he kissed her hand, Alexina widened her eyes. Though she understood his frustration, Lynden’s expressed doubt concerning Allfather’s care genuinely surprised her. She suspected that a contrast between the thinking patterns of a man and a woman caused this disconnect, then realized that her private worry about their daughters’ safety could fall under the same criticism. Faith, not fear, protected them.

I pray for Cassie and Blynn, she replied, using the abbreviated, blended form of her eldest daughter’s first and middle names. I wish we could offer them more substantive help. Blynn has endured more than her share of suffering, and as long as Cassie remains at the palace, her life is in grave danger.

Lynden did his best to assuage Alexina’s concern. Woodwind, Aril, and Xola will protect Cassie in whatever situation she cannot handle on her own, he stated. Though all four of his daughters knew how to defend themselves, he’d sent a personal guard along with Cassie, consisting of selected warriors whose unquestioned devotion, valor and fighting skill suited them for the task. Our girls have good judgment and know how to stay safe; though like you, I wish that Blynn had remained with us. She needs time away from war to pray, to forgive, and to heal her soul.

I miss them both, Alexina admitted. Our home is not complete without them.

A few minutes later Eren stopped nursing and began drifting to sleep again. Alexina handed the boy to Lynden, who held the child against his shoulder and rubbed his back while Alexina wiped her bosom dry, finished her tea and arose to use the bathroom.

To protect him from the cold, Lynden covered Eren’s tiny body with the left side of his robe, rocking the baby and singing softly. Paternal care also established attachment, different in its lack of physical nurture, but arguably as strong. Deep, personal interest and frequent affection formed the foundation of every relationship Lynden sustained among his children. As he had done with each of his four daughters, Lord Velez deeply loved his firstborn son and delighted in caring for him. Life seemed simpler, and in some ways more meaningful, in the context of his fatherly role. Shortly after the child had fallen asleep, Lynden kissed the boy’s cheek, gently laid him down in the crib and covered him with a blanket.

Alexina slipped out of her gown when she returned, opening her arms to bask in her husband’s warmth. She pulled his body close to hers, kissed his neck and pressed imploring fingers into his strong back. He, witnessing a familiar longing on her face, admired her lovely, womanly form. Though darkness veiled the full extent of her beauty – even to Lithian eyes – Alexina’s athletic figure aroused her husband in the faint, ultraviolet light that seeped through the clouds and into their bedroom window.

Lynden removed his robe and savored the sensation of his wife’s soft skin pressing against his own. Wordlessly, they kissed and caressed one another with building passion until Lynden lifted his petite lover into their bed.

***

Strong wind roared across the sleeping city of Marvic, blowing dry snow that had fallen in an earlier storm into deep drifts near the city walls. Brenna stared across Fort Aeolus, her nose pressed and breath condensing on the cold window glass of her room.

Unlike the skies above her parents’ estate and her younger sister’s lodging in Kameron City, this clear and frigid night in Marvic permitted Brenna to gaze upon a vast swath of the heavens overhead. Within galactic tidal tails, young, hot stars ionized clouds of hydrogen that glowed at the far fringes of her vision. Torrents of UV light sculpted strange patterns in the cold gas. Huge stars breathed massive outflows of high velocity stellar wind, dispersing the raw material for new systems, new planets, and perhaps, new life. Though tiny from the perspective of her distant observation, these features – simultaneously violent, yet creative and breathtakingly beautiful – stretched endlessly over time and space, fierce and untamed.

Like her parents, Brenna believed that Allfather God reigned over this powerful and measureless chaos. Yet as she gazed at the breathtaking view, she struggled to imagine why a sovereign God personally cared about anything that happened in her life. She felt a sense of separation – a distance magnified by doubt – that taunted from the fringes of her consciousness, nagging that she’d become unworthy of his concern. She’d willfully hardened her heart and betrayed the principles of conduct learned from her parents. She’d deliberately taken life when she should have extended mercy. That’s why she was awake at this hour. That’s why, for many weeks, she’d been having trouble sleeping.

Brenna, though she often felt weary, made up her mind to moderate her moods. Relying on a passionate, powerful prayer life and the psychological therapy she’d been assigned when Alpha Company returned from Kameron, Brenna managed to maintain function and sustain relationships. As long as the focus on her concern remained on other people, rather than her own sense of shame, she’d made progress in recovering from debilitating guilt. Now, as her gaze wandered across the brilliant, night sky, Brenna felt a strong urge to pray for her sister, Cassie.

Suddenly, in the midst of her petition, Brenna sensed that something had mysteriously entered the small room she shared with Hannelore Zimmer and Beth Sankt, the two other female members of Third Platoon, Alpha Company. The air took on a terrifying chill as a deep and dangerous wickedness whispered accusingly into her consciousness.

No one hears you anymore. You have fallen, and you belong to me, now!

With her young heart beating fast, Brenna turned away from the window and faced a tall and beautiful spirit being. His angular face, white hair and pale skin glowed softly in the purple light, evoking the appearance of her own people. Yet in his haunting, black eyes she sensed an unfathomable depth of antipathy.

Dread fear clutched Brenna’s throat. Though she’d never seen this creature before, she knew from the darkness of his soul that none of her own strength could prevail against him. You are not welcome here. Leave, now! she demanded.

The spirit being remained expressionless. Behind him another one appeared, a third, and then a fourth. I have come for you, he said, threateningly. I have brought my friends. You can’t resist us.

Ancient words, promises of Allfather’s care and protection, poured from Brenna’s memory. She closed her eyes as lovely, poetic verse overflowed from her lips. Something powerful and stern arose within her soul, trembling through her fingertips. Brenna raised her head and glared at the intruders. "By Allfather’s command, leave now!" she insisted.

But the evil ones did not heed. They sneered in silence, their menace palpable as deepening cold coaxed frost from the corners of the window and onto the surface of the room’s sparse furniture. A thin sheet of ice veiled the vanity mirror, and the floorboards creaked beneath Brenna’s bare feet. Wearing an ankle-length nightgown given to her by her beloved, the Lithian maiden shivered fearfully.

Depart from me, she warned, her lips quivering. A familiar force, far more ancient and potent than the wicked beings confronting her, trembled through her soul. "As Allfather wills, you must leave now!"

Brilliant, unapproachable light flooded the room. The ground groaned as a singular, massive tremor rumbled across the city. As Brenna’s blinded eyes recovered, she heard the evil voice say, You do not deserve the power you wield.

Hannelore Zimmer, one of the soldiers who shared quarters with Brenna and knew how to speak Lithian, awakened with her own heart pounding. What was that? she cried, sitting up. Who were you talking to?

Beth Sankt, a woman who’d been saved from certain death by Brenna’s healing skill – and who superstitiously feared the Lithian maiden – recoiled as she awakened and her bare back touched the frigid wall. She understood none of the words exchanged between Hanne and Brenna, but the tension in Hanne’s voice echoed her own concern.

Brenna climbed into bed to get warm, curled her knees to her breast and wrapped her quilt around her shoulders. Her voice trembled as she struggled to control intense anxiety. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.

Bewildered, Hanne pulled her blankets close and uttered a curse. Why is it so cold in here? She reached to turn the lamp on, but the power had been knocked out. Why did you open the window?

I didn’t open anything, Brenna replied in a disconsolate tone. Why would I do something so stupid? It’s freezing out there!

Though Hanne detected distress in the Lithian maiden’s voice, she couldn’t see the terrified tears falling from Brenna’s eyes, nor could she sense the deep sorrow of her soul. While the only logical explanation for the frigid room was that Brenna must have opened the window, Hanne had never known the Lithian maiden to lie. She felt confused that the foreign woman would deny doing something so obvious. The floor is slick with ice! Hanne exclaimed as she stood with her blanket wrapped around her body. Did the heater shut down?

No, the Lithian woman stated. There’s nothing wrong with the heater. It’s working just fine.

Beth swore in dismay. You’re creeping me out, Velez! she declared in Tamarian. And it’s rude for you to talk in a foreign tongue. What’s going on?

You’re safe now, Brenna replied. You don’t need to worry. They’re not after you, anyway. Her skill at speaking Tamarian had been steadily improving after moving in with Beth, whose inability to speak Lithian or Southern Vulgate – the tongue of the Azgar that Brenna usually used when she spoke with Garrick, her unbelieving beloved – forced the Lithian maiden to communicate more frequently in Tamarian.

Hanne bent to examine the baseboard heater. All buildings in Marvic drew warmth from mineral springs beneath the city. Water traveled through a vast, subterranean pipe network, driving fluidyne heat pumps and electrical generators in each basement. This technology permitted very comfortable indoor living during the coldest of seasons. The system used no other power. As long as the valves remained open, thermostatically-controlled hot water flowed into the baseboard, and a touch confirmed Brenna’s testimony.

Annoyed, Hanne stood up and switched languages so that Beth could understand. Alright Brenna, what’s going on? If you didn’t open the window, why is it so cold in here? With whom were you conversing, and why are you acting so paranoid?

Brenna sighed in resignation. You’re going to think I’m crazy. She turned away and wiped her face on the inside of her quilt.

That’s not much of a stretch! Beth replied. I thought you were loony in Kameron, but you’re getting steadily worse!

That doesn’t help! Hanne responded in a warning tone. She and Beth had enlisted very close to the same time – which meant that no rank separated them – but Hanne had been working on a degree in cultural anthropology, exuded confidence that intimidated the less educated and less intelligent Beth into silence.

Hanne sat on Brenna’s bed. "I know you had a rough time at La Casa del Matados, she soothed. They abused you and cut your hair, which I know means a lot to you. That it must have been humiliating. But Brenna, we went back there and put an end to that nonsense. You got your revenge. You made those people pay for your misery, and they’ll never harm you again. You should have closure now. You can leave it all behind."

I’m coping with that, Brenna replied, weary of everyone’s well-meaning insistence that she ought to be fine by now and free of guilt, after committing what she believed was cold-blooded murder. I’m functioning, not wallowing in guilt and self-pity.

Hanne raised her eyebrows. How can you that when you’re talking to yourself in the middle of the night? How can you say you’re managing well when you’re opening the window during a winter windstorm, lying about it, and giving orders to an empty room?

Although she didn’t want to discuss what she’d seen – rightly fearing that neither of the other women would understand – Brenna also felt annoyed that Hanne accused her of opening the window for a second time. I’m not crazy, she restated. I’ve been meeting with your psychology doctor every other day, and even he admits I’m making progress, but I can’t control how my actions ripple out into other dimensions.

Other dimensions? Hanne inquired.

Spiritual ones, said Brenna with irritation. More exists than we can see.

I told you she was crazy! Beth stated in triumph. What does that have to do with the cold? You’ve woken me up too many times with this kind of nonsense!

Shut up! Hanne snapped. You’re only making things worse when you should be grateful that Brenna saved your life!

During the battle to wrest La Casa del Matados from rebel hands, a sniper shot Beth in the chest using a high-powered rifle. The bullet penetrated her body armor and knocked the tall warrior woman down a flight of stairs. Had it not been for Brenna’s inscrutable ability to heal wounds, Private Sankt would have bled out on the cold, stone floor.

Beth remembered the darkness and despair of feeling her life slip away, as well as the dreadful sensation of a powerful warmth restoring her flesh and strength. All of this happened with Brenna’s touch.

How long am I going to owe her for that? Beth inquired. "She never comes clean about what’s going on and how she does these spooky things, like healing. Why did the ground shake? Why did the lights flash? Why is the power out? Why is it so cold in here?

Everything about her is abnormal. She sees in the dark, sings to herself and mutters to a make-believe god in her foreign language. That wig she wears looks like real hair, too!

It is real hair, Brenna retorted angrily, pulling on its strands to demonstrate, though neither of the other women could see what she was doing. You’re afraid of what you don’t understand. If you’d bother to get to know me, you’d have nothing to fear! Brenna collected a sweater and a skirt, then sat on her bed and dressed.

Where are you going? Hanne inquired as Brenna stood up.

I need some fresh air, the Lithian maiden said, flatly. Though she’d been reprimanded for untidiness, Brenna didn’t bother to close her drawer, make her bed, or put away her discarded nightgown.

Opening the window wasn’t enough for you? Beth accused, listening to Brenna wordlessly fumble with the door lock and storm out of the room. Turning back to Hanne, the Tamarian soldier continued. She’s either crazy, or she has a demon!

Hanne, who understood Lithian culture and realized that Brenna viewed everything through a spiritual paradigm, blew a short breath through her lips. Do you feel better now?

Beth remained unrepentant. She gives me the creeps! It’s freaky to wake up and see her staring out the window with her eyes glowing like that!

Get over it, Hanne replied. She’s Lithian. Her eyes reflect UV light. There’s nothing magical about it, nothing abnormal about her, and your constant complaining won’t change anything!

If she wasn’t LT Ravenwood’s girl, you wouldn’t think so highly of her, Beth retorted. And I’ll bet he’ll get tired of losing sleep after they’ve married and shared the same bed for awhile. I can hardly wait until after their wedding, when I can finally get a good night’s rest again! Beth flopped down on her back, staring at the ceiling, a bit of envy creeping into her lament. She didn’t feel pretty enough to attract amorous attention from a handsome officer like Lieutenant Ravenwood. Not that he’s going to get much sleep with her tight little body and pillowy tits steaming the nights up for him . . . . I bet he’ll be the one opening windows!

Hanne knew that Beth’s exaggerated complaints and critical attitude reflected widely-held Tamarian prejudices, but Brenna had developed an excellent reputation among most of Alpha Company’s men, who adored her and treated the maiden with genuine respect. While beautiful women always attracted attention, very few could transcend the visceral influence of their appearance and merit admiration for intelligence and good character, as was the case with Brenna Velez. The fact that she was Lithian and still managed to do this among xenophobic Tamarians was nothing short of remarkable. While her sleeplessness and penchant for creating clutter made her a poor roommate, the fact that she suffered insomnia and tended to be messy didn’t mean Brenna deserved having her private life discussed like this.

You’d better respect LT Ravenwood! Hanne warned. He may have a thing for a girl you don’t like, but he’s still your platoon leader. Besides, what guy wouldn’t leap at the chance to have someone who looks like Velez? And if he wants a little mink for a mate, that’s his business, not yours.

Power returned and the lamp, which Hanne had switched on, suddenly flooded the room with incandescent light. Frost glistened on the walls. Brenna’s diminutive footprints traced a path from the window to her bed, and then to the door.

You’d better watch your mouth when she’s around! Hanne continued. Our LT loves her. If she complains to him about your attitude, he can make your life miserable. The last person in this platoon who bickered about Brenna narrowly missed a date with a firing squad, and now he’s hacking frozen crap out of the toilets in Hungry Valley. Think about that before you grouse again!

The warning silenced Beth, who crossed her arms and sullenly glared as Hanne stood to check on the window. To the bewilderment of both women, not only did the window remain securely shut and locked, it had frozen into place and neither Hanne nor Beth could make it move.

***

Amid rippling rifle fire and the screams of wounded and dying men Garrick heard his drunken father’s voice cursing him. Confused by tremendous noise and frightened by the sudden advance of thick fog, he arose from his foxhole to flee. Enemy soldiers with wind-burned faces, wearing the black and red uniform of the Azgar Northern Liberation Army, melded into sweaty, dark-eyed Kamerese rebels in khaki. There were too many of them for his men to stop. He’d just emptied his last magazine, and a nearby machine cannon jammed. With his heart racing in terror, Garrick looked in vain for his bayonet.

Where had it gone? How could he face his adversaries without a weapon? He saw his friend, Jan Bordmann, lying in a lifeless, bloody heap on the ground. Jan opened his eyes and turned his head to speak. Where did you go, Garrick? Why didn’t you come back to help us?

You’re lazy and good for nothing! thundered his father’s voice from the heavens. Look at all the work I have to do all by myself!

Garrick cowered from his father’s wrath, but instead of enduring the expected beating, he found himself in a dark prison cell. Blood stained the brick walls. Brenna had curled up in the corner, her bright eyes glaring angrily. How could you betray me? she asked. How could you trade my pure love for the attention of a strumpet?

And then Algernon, his younger brother, came to the cell. Does the killing make you feel better? he asked. Does it make your pain go away?

Their mother pleaded in the distance, her voice edged with desperation. You’ve taken away my baby girl. She became a whore because of you! Now I’m alone, stuck in this awful place with no future. It’s all your fault. You’re just like your father! And now, you’re going to marry some foreign hussy . . .

That’s right! Eckhard Jaeger added. You’re a liar! All you care about is bonking that buxom slut of yours! I know all about you, punk!

General Braun shook his head bleakly. I’m disappointed, son. I thought you might make an outstanding officer one day . . .

Garrick staggered under the weight of all this discontent. He wanted to cry, but his little sister, Kira – who appeared as a child – came to his bedside and shook him. Wake up, Garrick! It’s just a bad dream!

When he did, the rhythmic sound of Talon Waldheim’s breathing wrought a sense of normalcy that helped Garrick regain control over his fear and calm down. The tremor that had roused him tapered into silence, leaving him wide awake in the darkness.

He didn’t want to disturb Talon’s slumber, so he pulled on a pair of pants and a military-issue tank top, arranged his bed, then snapped his watch onto his wrist. Carefully and quietly, Lieutenant Ravenwood opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

His watch reported the time as 03:40. That meant he’d had about six hours of sleep, which was more than he’d been getting lately. Dr. Bauer’s odd eye integration therapy seemed to be working. The psychologist would want to examine Garrick’s dream diary to assess progress in treating his post-combat stress, and he’d likely have to undergo additional treatment in light of not sleeping through the night again, but Garrick didn’t feel like writing at the moment.

Psychology had merged into Tamarian military culture out of necessity. Since gaining independence hundreds of years earlier, the nation endured nearly unremitting warfare. Most of her conflicts involved bloody skirmishes along the borders, or punitive actions against mountain giants who’d ventured into the valleys for plunder. But as this violent history exacted an emotional toll on the nation’s defenders, the Tamarian military monitored the mental health of its soldiers.

Most Tamarians who served were reserve conscripts, whose units rotated in and out of active duty, permitting the men and women to return home for half the year. Treating mental dysfunction promptly enabled soldiers to contribute to their nation’s economic strength while not deployed, and seamlessly reintegrate into the military whenever needed. Widespread combat experience among veteran soldiers gave Tamarian forces a depth and wisdom lacking in most of their adversaries. Among junior and noncommissioned officers, this often gave them the edge in a fight.

The recently formed Tamarian Expeditionary Force functioned a little differently. Its members volunteered for five year terms, which meant that unit cohesion would be much easier to maintain. Deployments followed the winter / summer pattern of the regular army, but units did not disband every six months. This departure from the citizen-soldier model had already asserted itself in a sense of elitism that contrasted with the more egalitarian ethic of traditional Tamarian combat units, creating rivalry between service branches.

It also explained why First Lieutenant Garrick Ravenwood remained in command of Third Platoon, Alpha Company, while his unit was in garrison. Endless inspections, work details, training exercises and education filled his days. He’d also been assigned to Dr. Bauer for treatment of post-combat stress, which left him little time for recreational pursuits.

All of this activity kept young Garrick out of trouble. He’d followed General Braun’s advice to stay busy, maintained a serious attitude about his psychological therapy, and with his younger brother’s aid, had been doing fairly well in handling an academic load. The latter activity illustrated the efficacy of Dr. Bauer’s treatment regimen.

In the past, Garrick’s life had been so filled with emotional distractions that he’d often missed school. Now, as he learned various ways to deal with the physical and emotional traumas he’d experienced, his newly-found focus permitted the young officer to discipline his effort in the classroom.

At present, aside from the gradually diminishing nightmares, the only other problems Garrick faced involved Brenna. He